


god damned desire

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2269134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school reunions are the worst. – Kyungsoo, Jongin, how everything started in high school, and how it would never end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	god damned desire

**Title:** god damned desire

 **Summary:**  High school reunions are the worst. – Kyungsoo, Jongin, how everything started in high school, and how it would never end.

 **Pairing:**  Kaisoo

 **Genre:**   Angst, Romance

 **Rating:** NC – 17

 **Song choice:** _Requiem on Water_  by Imperial Mammoth

-

(“Up close, we stumble backwards”)

-

The tires grind quite loudly against the apron of asphalt when Kyungsoo pads his foot on the brake.

The stars are twinkling brightly tonight, like small white dots on a canvass streaked with an inky kind of black, and the smoke coming from cigarettes in between slender fingers  singes the cool night air.

There’s a bellhop pacing back and forth on the stairs leading to the entrance.  

He glances up to the yellow lights coming from the occupied rooms of the hotel. They glow faintly through the cream curtains.  A valet then taps the window of his car, and when Kyungsoo rolls down the tinted glass the boy holds out his white-gloved hand, asking for the keys.

He unlocks the door first before giving it to him. Now that he’s outside from the confines of his car, he can hear clearly the vociferous music playing from the function room, the rapid, pulsing rhythm reminiscent of his high school days –

Kyungsoo steps inside when he confirms himself as a guest. He hides a smirk when the guards pat him down for any weapons, sharp objects, or potential harmful projectiles. It’s not like he has anyone from Batch ‘90 that he wants to stab to death. If anything, he wants to stab himself.

Ever since he received the invitation card on his work desk one clear Friday morning, he’d debated with himself for four weeks, weighing the pros and cons carefully between sleep and waking hours. He suctioned out a grandmother’s pus in the operating room earlier this morning while thinking whether he’s okay with re-meeting people from his past, reopening wounds.

The lights flicker too fast and there’s too much purple in Kyungsoo’s eyes. He feels a headache coming. He pockets his glasses.

Personally, he doesn’t see the point of the whole gathering. Reunions are for people who have something or someone to boast about, people who’ve made a difference, people who were once trampled over and became successful through hard work, luck, or a combination of both. Kyungsoo doesn’t believe in the excuse of reliving the glorious days of high school, seeing again the precious friends who they’ve inevitably lost contact with. Reliving takes place inside the mind, he reasons. As for contacting long-lost friends, there’s Facebook for that.

But he’s here, anyway. It didn’t take that much convincing in Chanyeol’s part for Kyungsoo to concede when he phoned him after work one day. And now Chanyeol is by his side, clapping him at the back, remorselessly drunk.

“Told you he’d come,” the taller one slurs through a drunken haze. He says it to Baekhyun, Kyungsoo’s childhood friend.

A smile creeps to Baekhyun’s face. “It’s been way too long, nerd. We’ve missed you.”

“Missed you guys too.” He doesn’t respond with the usual  _‘How are you?’._ Seeing how Chanyeol’s arm is wrapped around Baekhyun’s waist, holding him close, they seemed to be doing just fine. He raises an eyebrow at this but doesn’t comment.

Baekhyun chuckles serenely. “You don’t mean that.”

“Busted,” Kyungsoo replies with a small grin, and they both laugh at that.

It’s been a while since he’s seen the two, Kyungsoo has to admit. Last time he did, the two were strapped to each other naked on Kyungsoo’s bed when he came home late to that apartment he and Baekhyun shared. He remembers running out of the room in shock, shaking his head ardently to erase the mental image of Chanyeol fondling Baekhyun’s thighs. He ended up sleeping in a nearby motel, feeling wronged and desperately alone, and the next morning he packed all of his things and bid a silent goodbye to his two best friends. 

In hindsight, he thinks he might’ve felt hurt and guilty that they had to keep their relationship from him, that they thought Kyungsoo wouldn’t approve of them. He guesses that’s probably why he left.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Baekhyun observes. “Our doctor-nim has way too many patients to even eat, eh?”

As if on cue, a waiter comes and offers them dumplings and champagne, and the three of them each grab a dish of their own, with Baekhyun stopping his boyfriend from drinking another glass.

“I actually just got off from work. I also have an appointment tomorrow, so I can’t stay for long,” Kyungsoo answers absent-mindedly, chewing on his dumplings.

Chanyeol shrugs, almost hitting the jaw of another guest with his shoulder by a centimeter. “It’s not like you to stay after the drinks are served, anyway.” He grabs Kyungsoo’s wrist and tugs. “I’m sure you wouldn’t recognize half of the people here anymore. Even Jongdae got loaded and fixed his chin with plastic surgery. But anyway, I know there’s this one person you’d love to see.”

Kyungsoo freezes on his spot.

Seeing the look on their friend’s face, Baekhyun tries for another smile. “He’s here. We actually thought he wouldn’t show up, but he did. I think he wants to see you. He’s over there,” he points to the round tables set under the colonnade, but Kyungsoo only sees hazy figures without the aid of his glasses. He’s suddenly unsure of why he even came here in the first place.

“Drinking like a madman, can you believe it?” Baekhyun continues awkwardly. “Back in the day he was always the one who’d buck out of weekend binges – “

“I don’t think he wants to see me,” he says in a small voice. With three of his fingers he pries away his wrist from Chanyeol’s grip.

“Eyy, this is why I told you to come in the first place!” Chanyeol whines. “We haven’t seen you for two years, you know, but I think Jongin has it worse. How many years has it been?”

 _Eight_ , Kyungsoo answers in his head. “I don’t know. And I don’t want to see him.” A lie.

“Well,  _he_  does.” Baekhyun sidesteps to Kyungsoo’s back and pushes him forward, ignoring the other’s loud protests. “You cold-hearted person. Stop being so stubborn.”

Chanyeol joins the parade and pulls Kyungsoo towards the tables, waving off the crowd to make a small gap for them.

A few people eye them in confusion as they make their way towards the throng of used-to-be soccer players and cheerleaders passed out on the tables. One portly woman Kyungsoo recognizes as the student body president during his senior year spills a good deal of quality beer on his shirt, the malt rapidly staining the cotton from white to chrome. But Baekhyun and Chanyeol don’t seem to be distressed over this at all, and they roughly pushed Kyungsoo ahead to a table in the front.

“You’ll thank us for this, I swear,” Chanyeol undertones, and with a snicker, grabs Baekhyun to the dance floor.

Kyungsoo doesn’t hear them parting, however. He just gapes at his shocked self mirroring on another’s eyes.

Jongin’s  stare has him nailed onto the floor, and he’s torn between the urge to run away and to ask him to come closer – it’s been a really,  _really_  long time since he’s felt this way, this strange mixture of fear and longing, and he feels tears prickle his eyes. He blinks them back.

Instead, he settles with saying, “You’re drunk,” – stating the obvious when talking about the weather is inapplicable – and he suddenly feels lightheaded when Jongin laughs. Kyungsoo’s probably drunk too, but not in that sense.

Jongin taps the plush seat beside him with his palm. “It’s been long, eh, Kyungsoo? How’ve you been?”

He doesn’t acknowledge that question and just sits next to him, a couple of inches too far away—farther than a friend but closer than a stranger would.

And Kyungsoo turns to look at him, really look at him: there are creases on his face that weren’t there eight years ago. There’s a hint of strong muscle underneath his tweed jacket, and his hair is now slicked back with mousse. The differences from the Jongin he used to know punch him in the gut.

But there’s that one small dimple on his left cheek when Jongin smiles at him, the smell of his favorite deodorant, the minty scent of bubblegum jammed somewhere in his suit pocket – and those things flatten his heart even worse. It’s not the changes that bother him; it’s the subtle things—the small but painful tug of familiarity—that breaks him.

“Chanyeol said you’re an ER doctor now. Almost a specialist,” Jongin says in between coughs.  “Big shot now, are we?”

 _Not as big as you_ , Kyungsoo retaliates in his head. He hasn’t been exactly keeping track of Jongin all these years, but he knows he’s an editor now at some popular magazine in America. A far cry from Jongin’s initial dream to be a dance instructor – fate had other plans, apparently.

Kyungsoo’s concerned now. Jongin’s eyes are already rolling backwards, and when Jongin places a hand  on his kneecap, it sears through the thin cloth of his trousers. Kyungsoo tries brushing it away, but the hand seems magnetized towards his knee.  “How many glasses did you drink?”

“I don’t know.” Jongin shrugs. “Fifteen, maybe.”

“ _Fifteen_?”

“Yep,” he answers, his lips popping out the ‘p’.

And in a blink of an eye, Jongin is invading his personal space, leaning forward.

“What’re you – “

Jongin presses his lips onto his, and Kyungsoo frantically grabs Jongin’s shoulders, pushing him away. Unconsciously, he touches his burning lips, looking scandalized.

Out of nowhere, a laugh bubbles in Jongin’s throat. “You’re such a prude,” he sing-songs. “What, everybody in here’s already seen us do it a thousand times.”

“Is this how they do it in America?  Suddenly kissing your ex in front of your high school friends? Drunk?” Kyungsoo says angrily, acid burning his throat as he speaks. “We’re not together anymore. It’s not going to make any sense.”

Then Jongin’s hand finds it way on Kyungsoo’s nape, gently pulling him in. They’re so close that their noses are bumping and their upper lips are touching, and Kyungsoo halts his breathing as the world spins around him dizzyingly.

Visions of him and Jongin kissing passionately under the maple tree during their junior year blind him, and he shivers under Jongin’s touch. He knows this. He remembers this.

“Come on,” Jongin’s lips move against his as he speaks. “For old time’s sake.”

Jongin plunges in, and Kyungsoo lets him.

-

His lips spread love bites all over Kyungsoo’s neck, and he mewls softly. He stops himself from crying out Jongin’s name– it was painful enough to hear Jongin utter  _“Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo”_  as his fingers trail to his waistband.

They’re at Kyungsoo’s penthouse. More specifically, in Kyungsoo’s bedroom. Jongin has him pinned on the frame of the door, showering him with hot kisses.

Jongin scrambles for the zipper of Kyungsoo’s jeans.  Kyungsoo follows his lead and unwinds.

“You’re so big, Kyungsoo,” Jongin mutters heatedly on his ear, biting down on the cartilage. His hand is cupping the underside of Kyungsoo’s hard dick, fondling his balls. Then he runs his fingers on the shaft before grabbing it whole in his hand, pumping his erection without remorse. “You must want me so bad,” he remarks, voice hoarse.

Kyungsoo can’t find it in him to respond. His head is thrown back and his mouth is open in a silent scream as Jongin gives him a handjob. Jongin’s right hand is now slick with pre-cum, and he winds him even tighter, circling Kyungsoo’s cock in fast but irregular intervals. Kyungsoo pants as Jongin licks his jawline.

He finally bursts when Jongin suckles his Adam’s apple, the release so swift that his knees buckle. Jongin holds him by the arms. White streaks cover his black dress trousers.

Jongin is now grinding his dick against him as Kyungsoo smothers his lips, his tongue darting inside Jongin’s mouth. He bites his lower lip, and Jongin thrusts his hips so hard that the small of Kyungsoo’s back hits the door hinge.

He pushes Kyungsoo towards the bed, toppling on him. Jongin hastily unbuttons his stained polo shirt. Kyungsoo’s other hand flies to the drawer handle, pulling out a small jar of lubricant, and Jongin laughs deeply.

Kyungsoo impatiently yanks his slacks and underwear down, and Jongin breathes out a gruff groan as the cold air hits his manhood. He snuggles out of his own trousers as Jongin lubes himself up. And then Jongin puts Kyungsoo’s creamy legs on his shoulders before inserting a finger.

He feels himself tighten around Jongin, and the sharp pang of pain overwhelms him that red dots line his vision. He lets out a yelp, which Jongin represses with a needy kiss. The third digit comes as fast as the second, sliding in and out of Kyungsoo.

“Now,” Kyungsoo screams under the haze of pleasure. His cock is hard again and his hand flies to stroke it, the other one grappling Jongin’s shoulder to bid him closer.

The look of lust in Jongin’s eyes stirs something in his stomach, making him brave enough to take Jongin in his hand and lead him inside. And when Jongin rushes in, they both let out a loud, carnal moan.

“You haven’t said my name yet all night,” Jongin gasps in between heady thrusts, and Kyungsoo almost doesn’t hear him amidst his pleasured groans and whimpers.  Kyungsoo strokes himself even faster, matching Jongin’s grunts.

“J-j,” Kyungsoo caws, his eyes closing. He can feel the muscles on Jongin’s back tighten under his palm as the other unleashes himself to him. He can smell that strange mixture of sweat and peppermint gum and cologne, that boyish scent that reminds him of soft drizzles and warm hugs. Tears start leaking out of his eyelids.

Nails are digging on his arms as Jongin thrusts even deeper, and he hits that same damn spot that made Kyungsoo undone eight years ago. Kyungsoo’s lips open to form Jongin’s name, but no sound comes out.

Jongin hits it again, and again, and again, rocking him harshly against the mattress, all the while nipping Kyungsoo’s collarbone.

“Jongin!” the name finally slips from his swollen lips, and it sends ripples of pain to his chest.  _Jongin. Jongin._  Cum slicks both of their stomachs as Kyungsoo lets himself go.

Victorious, Jongin covers his mouth with his own. “That’s all I was waiting for you to say all night, Kyungsoo,” he whispers, pulling away from the kiss. And with that, he passes out on Kyungsoo’s bare chest.

-

He’s out of the shower when Jongin wakes up scratching his scalp and yawning. His lower body is buried under the thick blue sheets, and his russet-colored hair is standing up in different directions, the ends curling up in that same way Kyungsoo found endearing years ago.

His heart does tumbles at the sight of it. Maybe he still does.

There’s a small sliver of sunlight coming out of the huge puffy clouds outside. It’s a clear Monday morning, a nice morning to wake up to.

Jongin smirks at the towel wrapped around Kyungsoo’s waist. “I’ve already seen that part of you, Soo. Why don’t you take it off?”

Kyungsoo heads to the closet and takes out his work clothes. He slings back the now empty hangers onto the pole. “Don’t even start, Jongin. I’m being decent.”

“You look better naked, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Kyungsoo snorts as he slips on his slacks and buckles his belt. Jongin doesn’t even turn away as he dresses. “Wow,” he says derisively. “America finally succeeded in turning you into a full-fledged horndog. Engaging in an endless salad bar of sex now, are we?”

Jongin beams heartily. “You say America like it’s a derogative term. Besides, I’m always horny when I’m around you, even when we were still dating.”

Kyungsoo reddens at this, whipping his gaze from the man splayed on his bed, and Jongin laughs even more. “I guess I’ve never told you that.” He grins.

“No,” Kyungsoo sighs.

“You’re acting like this is the first time we’ve had sex.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not.”

“Do you still remember the first time we did? We were pretty messy that time.”

Kyungsoo does. The picture of him and Jongin spreading lube all over the place is still vivid in his head. He fights a smile and an erection from growing. He runs a hand through his hair and slips his socked feet into his recently shined shoes.

Jongin frowns at his back. “So you’re just going to leave me here?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head again. “I won’t be seeing you out. I have an appointment,” he tells him. “Help yourself with whatever.”

“You won’t mind me poking through some stuff then?”

“You’ve already seen more than half of everything in here, anyway. This house is basically just my room back in Gurye, only three times larger.” Memories of them hanging out in his old room and chatting with each other until one of them falls asleep come fresh, smiting him.

Kyungsoo lets himself look back. The image of Jongin half-naked on his bed is replaced with the younger version of them sitting next to each other, talking comfortably, hands only a micrometer away from  _just friends_  to  _something more_.  And when he’s jarred back to reality by the sound of his beeper ringing in his coat pocket, he’s thinking that this scene before him is the saddest thing he’s ever seen in his whole life.

Jongin is no longer his, and he’d be coming home with his room disheveled and his sheets stained from the events of last night.

Kyungsoo’s bed would be empty. He’d be alone, just like always had been.

Jongin looks at him with amusement. “You haven’t changed a bit, Kyungsoo.”

He responds with a weary grin. “You know how I am with change.” And he closes the bedroom door behind him.

-

On the drive to the hospital, Kyungsoo thinks of the time he and Jongin broke up.

It was days after their graduation, a few weeks into their summer break. Jongin told him to meet him at an ice cream parlor they often frequent. It was a place where they stayed after class, where most of their memories were made; looking back, it was sort of fitting to cut where the strings started intertwining, started forming an ugly knot. But that time Kyungsoo didn’t know what’d hit him, thinking it was just another date.

There wasn’t much fanfare over it. He remembers Jongin saying that he’d fallen out of love – they’ve met during their first year and had been together ever since, and three years should be enough time to get too used to one another.

He also remembers thinking that falling out of love is just a fancy way to say “ _I’ve gotten sick of you”_ , so without putting much of a fight, Kyungsoo agreed with him.

 _“You’re better off alone, anyway”_  were the words that broke Kyungsoo, slowly, and without a sound.

“You’re right,” he murmured, his gaze unnaturally intense on his bowl of banana split. “I guess I am.”

“You’ll still keep in touch, right?” Jongin asked him, touching him by the arm. Kyungsoo refused to look at him, knowing he’ll be crushed once he gets to look at Jongin’s relieved and hopeful face. So again, he told him a quiet “Okay.”

“Okay,” Jongin repeated. “That’s good.”

They sat on their stools for a long time, with Kyungsoo looking at anywhere but Jongin. He fiddled with the small spoon in his hand. He’d already lost his appetite hours ago, so he just let the ice cream melt into one big pink slob all over the translucent bowl, ignoring the cheery country music playing softly in the background.

Amid the stretch of silence Jongin scooted closer to Kyungsoo, leaning in, bending down to kiss him.

And in the end Kyungsoo grabbed onto Jongin’s shirt tightly, afraid of being swept away by the strong wave of his emotions – Jongin’s hand was pressed on his back as he moved his lips onto his, and Kyungsoo’s chest stung.

He recalls Jongin’s lips tasting like caramel, a tad too sweet for the bitterness that welled inside of him. And when Jongin pulled away, he remembers the other leaning onto his forehead before smiling and saying,  _“For old time’s sake.”_

He parks in front of the concrete partition nestling on the block behind the hospital. Kyungsoo unbuckles his seatbelt and just stares straight ahead towards the windshield, unmoving.

Even though he promised, he never made an effort to contact Jongin again after that, especially when he learned from Baekhyun the next day that Jongin was going overseas to continue his studies.

It says a lot about how different they are: Kyungsoo always cuts ties with a person in one gentle snip, swiftly and cleanly, whereas Jongin likes making the parting as painful and horrible as possible, leaving a rift too big that it leaves a mark.

This he remembers as he gets out of his car. Kyungsoo smiles sadly to himself.

-

The blackest of all black coffees spill all over his desk, and Kyungsoo curses. He’s been trying his best to keep himself awake while formatting the slides for the presentation in a conference that is seven days away. He’d never thought he’d be doing a lot of talking in front of a crowd when he signed up to become a doctor, and he morbidly half-hopes that some kind of 119 situation would pop out of the woodwork.

The door suddenly bursts open. A tall, elegant-looking boy raps his finger on the knob. “Kyungsoo,” he says in a monotone.  “We need you down at the ER.”

“I thought you’re covering for tonight,” he replies, not looking up from his monitor.

“There’s a bloody person down there that needs some stitching.”

“Shoo. Go away.”

“He says he won’t let us treat him unless it’s you.”

The tapping sounds from his keyboard stops shortly, and Kyungsoo glances up to Sehun. “Could you run that down for me again?”

Sehun rolls his eyes. “Man downstairs. Beaten up pretty well. Too smashed to even open his left eye. Head contusions and bruises all over his fists and arms.”

“And you said –“

“He wouldn’t let anyone lick his boo-boos except for you, Dr. Do Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo lets himself recline on his chair. “Is it someone I know?”

Sehun just gives him a small, sardonic grin and shows himself out of the room.  

Kyungsoo exhales loudly. This isn’t the kind of excuse he was fantasizing – he was hoping for something more dramatic, but whatever. He takes the stairwell, since the ER is just one floor below his and Sehun’s shared office, and he briefly notices some nurses eyeing him bemusedly. He bows at them, just as confused.

His white coat flaps behind him like a bat’s wings. Kyungsoo rushes towards the beds slung with blue curtains and grips on an intern’s arm. “Where’s the 801 patient?” he asks.

“There,” the young man answers. He dutifully hands Kyungsoo the patient’s papers.

Kyungsoo nods. He calls for the nurse to get rid of the ketamine on the tray and give him a jar of iodine solution instead before pulling back the curtains, and he stifles a gasp at the familiar figure lying on the bland sheets that are now stained with blood.

Jongin’s face contorts into a crooked grin. “Hi.”

Kyungsoo almost slaps him with a pad of gauze. His eyes train all over the dried-up blood on his knuckles, the scratches on his chin, the dirt stuck on his hair, the swollen eye that is slowly coloring into a horrifying blue-black. How can Jongin be so flippant at a time like this? “This is a nightmare,” Kyungsoo remarks. His hands begin their work on Jongin’s arm, pouring antiseptic all over the reddening skin. Jongin hisses.

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened?” Jongin says, gritting his teeth together.

“I don’t think that’s important right now,” Kyungsoo replies as the nurse hands him tongs of cotton saturated with iodine, and Jongin barks out a laugh.

He shakes his head, smiling despite himself. “I got into a bar fight. I kinda forgot how feisty we Koreans can get when we’re drunk.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, Kyungsoo can smell the faint scent of stale beer all over Jongin’s clothes. He turns to the nurse. “Can you take a look at the chart? What’s his BAC?”

 “Point fifteen, doctor-nim,” she replies.

Kyungsoo sighs in frustration. He wipes the blood crusting the skin behind his ear. “I’m telling you this as a doctor: stop drinking,” he tells him. He moves to examine the cut under his eye with gentle fingers. “You can’t hold your alcohol. Look at where it’s gotten you.”

“Nah,” Jongin smiles genuinely. It surprises Kyungsoo how much that small, simple gesture manages to light up his whole face, despite the black eye and the bruises. “I like it just fine. I think this is the first time you’ve ever touched my face like this all these years,” he says. “You haven’t even touched me like this way when we were fucking last night.”

Kyungsoo bristles. He gives the nurse a strained smile. “I think I can take it from here. Thank you,” he politely sends her away. The nurse bows and leaves, but Kyungsoo manages to catch the thoughtful look in her eyes.

He sighs to himself.  “Why are you here, Jongin?” Kyungsoo inquires tiredly. He lets the question ring with finality, since he doesn’t want to associate himself with him. He doesn’t know if he could even take it. Jongin himself made it clear that there’s nothing between them anymore.

“Why?” The other frowns. “Are you refusing patients now? Wow, that’s harsh, Kyungsoo, really.”

“The fact that you’ve gotten yourself piss drunk and beaten up, gotten yourself into this very hospital and sought me out,” Kyungsoo breathes. “Is very telling.”

“Smarty-pants.”

“Please don’t do this, Jongin.”

Jongin shrugs, propping himself up, but Kyungsoo forces him down with a hand. Again, he’s amazed that Jongin can still find the energy to keep up with their conversation.

Kyungsoo dabs another set of tweezed cotton on the incision marring Jongin’s upper lip. He tries to ignore the way Jongin’s mouth opens a little and the meaningful gaze he throws at him. There’s a growing stubble underneath his chin that Kyungsoo has never seen before, and he reflexively touches it with his hand.

Jongin jumps back from his bed like he just got struck by lightning.

Kyungsoo mutters an apology. “When’s the last time you’ve shaved?”

He scratches his beard. “I don’t know. Few weeks ago, maybe. Why? You don’t like facial hair?”

“Not really. I have nothing against it.”

“I’ll shave it off,” Jongin chuckles softly. “So that it won’t bother you next time.”

 _Next time?_  “What do you mean? Aren’t you coming back to the U.S.?”

“Chanyeol hasn’t told you yet? I’m staying here permanently. The publishing house just opened a branch – ow! Hey! That hurt!” Jongin yelps, his lip stinging when Kyungsoo unintentionally applied too much pressure on it after hearing the news.

Kyungsoo swiftly pulls back his hand. His ears keep on ringing at the words  _‘staying here permanently’_.

“Y-you’re back?” Kyungsoo stammers.

He nods. “For good.”

 _For good_ , a voice repeats in his head. Kyungsoo shakes it off like a bug.

Jongin hums deeply. “So I guess I’ll be seeing you more often?”

“I don’t know.”

“Busy?”

“Yeah.”

“Busy taking care of me?”

Kyungsoo flicks his head. “Your wounds are superficial – you can actually be discharged right now.”

Jongin pouts at him playfully. “I thought you’d be a kind and caring doctor, especially if the patient is me.”

“It’s because it’s  _especially_  you,” he sighs. “That I can’t be kind and caring like I am to everybody else.”

Jongin’s face then breaks into a delighted beam. He winks with his one good eye and laughs. “Oh. So I’m the exception?” he grins toothily. “I feel a whole lot better now. Thanks, Doc.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, though. Make some time for me.”

“Why?”

“Nothing. I just want to hang out with you.”

“Why?” he asks again.

Jongin stares at him, long and intense, that it renders Kyungsoo speechless and confused and self-conscious. He stops taping the gauze and looks away.

“Eight years,” Jongin inhales, then sighing. “I guess it’s long enough for you to forget about us. You’ve probably never thought of me until yesterday…”

Kyungsoo looks pointedly at the tiled floor, waiting for Jongin to continue, but the man doesn’t.

He decides to break the silence after a few minutes. “I’ll send you home tomorrow morning,” Kyungsoo says quietly. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Jongin snorts at this, but doesn’t respond.

When Kyungsoo passes the service counter, he requests a nurse on stand-by to keep a look out on his patient, making sure that Jongin would still be there next morning.

-

Kyungsoo thrusts himself inside Jongin, the need strong and urgent, and the latter’s eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Faster, faster,” Jongin groans as he fists a large clump of hair from Kyungsoo’s scalp, scratching his neck and shoulders, and Kyungsoo moans in an outburst of ecstasy.

He licks the pulse on Jongin’s neck, and he feels him writhe under his grasp. Jongin is so tight and slick around his cock that the burn somewhere in his abdomen increases, begging for more.

Kyungsoo’s shivers when Jongin rasps sensually in his ear, “I want to be full of you, Kyungsoo”, and wraps his legs around his waist and grabs his ass to plunge him in deeper. He pants deliriously as the pace quickens. “Jongin, Jongin,” he moans.

He hits Jongin’s prostate, and Jongin lets out a guttural sound, his hips rising on its own accord – it breaks something inside Kyungsoo, unraveling him, and he finally loses control of himself, his member pulsing in and out ferociously, crying out in sweet, sweet agony.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Kyungsoo swears angrily as he feels the release coming. Jongin overwhelms his lips as his hand drifts down to pump himself.

Jongin grips the headboard as Kyungsoo rides him. “God,” he whimpers.

And then Kyungsoo’s vision goes white, and he comes inside of him. He growls in bliss, the spasms travelling downwards to his spine. In a few seconds Jongin follows suit, streams of white bursting from him, slathering his hand and his navel.

Kyungsoo collapses on top of him, his chest rising up and down erratically. Spent but still aroused, he grazes his teeth on Jongin’s collarbone, licking the scab that formed from yesternight’s ordeal.

“You’re such a tease,” Jongin crows groggily, kissing him full on the lips.

The ends of his mouth turn upwards before responding, “This is what you get for seducing me in the car. I was just doing everyone a favor by taking you home from the hospital myself.”

“And you didn’t see this coming when you offered? Seriously?”

“No. Seriously.”

“Liar.”

Kyungsoo realizes a beat too late that he’s now burying his head on Jongin’s hard chest, inhaling his familiar musky scent. The intimacy startles him, and he untangles himself immediately from Jongin. If the bronze-skinned man notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

They both stare at the ceiling of Jongin’s condo in silence. It’s black, the color of shale, with a few traces of cream underneath where the paint starts chipping off. The lights coming from the moving automobiles below shine through the window, and it dashes back and forth across the ceiling, like a projector flashing a movie on a screen.

“Do you remember the time we watched  _Anne of the Green Gables_  for language class?” Jongin speaks up.

That was a random question. “Why that all of a sudden?”

Jongin shrugs. “Do you remember?”

“Yeah, a little. We were in first year.”

“We were seatmates back then. It was a super old movie.  Mrs. Jung used a VCR to play the tape and the movie was still in black and white.” Jongin is laughing now, his whole body quaking.

“It’s the 1930s version.” Kyungsoo chuckles along with him. “And half of the class fell asleep somewhere in the middle. But I actually like it the best out of the three. How about you?”

“I wasn’t watching the movie,” Jongin declares and pecks him on the forehead. “I was watching you.”

Kyungsoo shifts his head to look at him, his eyes widening. “What are you saying?” he questions warily.

Jongin smirks. He flicks his bangs which are drenched in sweat. “You were too absorbed with handsome Gilbert to notice. You actually almost didn’t blink the entire movie, and you had your hand on your cheek like this – “ Jongin imitates seventeen-year-old Kyungsoo, cupping his cheek and laughing. “ – and you listened to every single dialogue as if your life depended on it. It was…  _phew_ ,” he puffs. “It was intense. Look at my arm. I get goosebumps just thinking about that day.”

Kyungsoo hides himself under the pillows, sort of embarrassed. “I don’t understand why you have to bring that up,” he complains.

 “That time…” Jongin says, his voice contemplative. “There was this scene where Anne dyed her hair green. Do you remember that?”

“I do.”

“Well, I think you found that part funny or something. And then I saw one side of your mouth turn up like this,” he narrates, reenacting. “You were smiling, and then you hid it under your hand so that no one would notice.”

Kyungsoo blinks hard.

“That first time, I thought it was cute. And then the next day I saw you do it when Chanyeol and Baekhyun teased you. And the day after that, you did it again when our Algebra teacher made a lame joke. So a week after that during our lunch I gave you an apple juice,” Jongin grins as he inclines his head towards his direction. “I never talked to you before so you looked so surprised. You bowed your head and said thanks, all shy and stuff, and then I saw it: you smiled, and you kept smothering it back by wiping your face with your palm. It was a small one, though. If I wasn’t particularly watching out for it, I think I would’ve missed it.”

Jongin then fiddles with Kyungsoo’s fingers, the same way he always did whenever they’re together.

“That literally sealed the deal for me,” he says lightly. “I hovered over you for the next three years, making it my personal mission to make you happy every day, making sure that you wouldn’t feel the need to hide that smile of yours ever again.”

Kyungsoo’s heart constricts at this.

“You made me happy,” he confesses, placing his fingers in the spaces between Jongin’s, completing the puzzle. “So I guess it’s mission accomplished.”

He starts removing his hand, but Jongin grabs on tightly. Kyungsoo can’t see his expression in the dark. “Do you think if I didn’t break up with you back then at the ice cream parlor, we’d still be together?” he wonders out loud. “Just a hypothetical question.”

Kyungsoo decides to lie through his teeth. “No,” he replies. “I’m sure something would’ve happened along the way.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He finds himself nodding off in exhaustion. He gives in to the temptation of Jongin’s warm body , and snuggles close to him. Jongin wraps his arms around him, pulling him in a hug despite his barely healed bruises, and Kyungsoo, with his throat tightening and his heart beating anxiously, lets himself be taken once more.

-

It happens again a week after, with Jongin tripping over his own legs while unfastening the belt around Kyungsoo’s waist.

“Why do you even wear this when the jeans hug you perfectly already?” Jongin growls in Kyungsoo’s ear, ignoring the blare of shotguns coming from the speakers. The theatre is completely empty except for the two and the lustful miasma that surrounds them.

Kyungsoo frowns. “You used to find belts sexy.” His hands travel on Jongin’s chest, tracing out the contours, smirking when Jongin lets out a pained sigh.

“Not anymore.” Jongin throws it away as far as possible, his eyes steely dark, and Kyungsoo flushes hard. He’s grateful for the lack of light.

Jongin nips on the hot pulse on Kyungsoo’s neck. “I want to fuck you raw in this seat,” he whispers heatedly. “But that damn thing is getting in the way – the movie’s almost over.”

“Better do it quickly then.” And Jongin does, inserting his erection into Kyungsoo as hard and as fast as humanly possible, rocking the red chair with aplomb. They kiss each other hungrily to muffle the whimpers and gruff moans of pleasure, which are completely out of place in an action movie.

They had a handjob during the opening credits of the movie, a blowjob in the climax, and here they are at the final credits, with the familiar pool of desire bursting through them as Jongin cums, his dick deep and rough inside Kyungsoo. The latter pants noisily, almost echoing in the empty theatre house.

He feels his thighs aching from Jongin thrusting too violently into him, and he’ll probably feel  sore in the morning that he’d probably have a hard time driving to work tomorrow.

Kyungsoo grimaces after Jongin gives him a sloppy kiss. “Right on time, but you didn’t have to do it like that, you know. I feel like a toy.”

“Well, you looked like you weren’t complaining,” Jongin simpers, putting his arm around Kyungsoo’s sagging shoulders. He zips up his jeans. “You were enjoying it as much as I was.”

“Maybe.”

Jongin laughs. “Be honest, Kyungsoo. You’ve always liked me rough. And you were never gentle with me either.”

Kyungsoo groans in frustration as the credits lull into a stop, and he pulls Jongin out of his seat. “Why are we even having this conversation?” he says, slightly embarrassed. His horniness hasn’t abated yet, and his semi-erection is starting to ache again, fast. He needs to remedy the situation immediately before they start fucking each other again in the theatre’s fire exit – they’ll be caught for sure, and Kyungsoo knows he’d bear the brunt of it all.

Jongin seems to find entertainment in seeing his cheeks coloring as he blithely pats Kyungsoo’s ass when they walk out together. The clerk behind the ticketing area gives them an admonishing stare.

“Haha,” Kyungsoo mocks, pouting his lips. “If only I knew we were going to do it in a Sylvester Stallone movie, I would’ve backed out in a heartbeat.”

“Judging from your screams, though, I can tell that you haven’t gotten laid in years. Was I your last – “

“Shut up, Jongin!”

“I was, wasn’t I?”

“I said shut up!”

Jongin chortles, shielding himself from Kyungsoo’s fists of fury. “Alright, alright! God, you don’t have to be so dramatic.”

Kyungsoo fumes. He quickens his pace, determined to leave him in the dirt. But Jongin’s long legs fail him, and with three strides he immediately catches up to Kyungsoo zooming across the women’s boutiques.

“That makes two of us,” Jongin mutters.

Kyungsoo eyes him angrily. “What?” he grills.

“I haven’t had sex with anyone besides you,” he admits sheepishly. “Even after I left.”

He feels himself melting under Jongin’s soft gaze, but he shakes his head to gather his wits. “I don’t believe you,” Kyungsoo decides.

“What? You think I’d be lying about sex?”

“There are a lot of people in America,” he reasons.

Jongin cocks an eyebrow at this. “Korea’s no small island either. Is the States one big whorehouse to you? I’m being serious here. You’re the only person I’ve ever had sex with.” He shrugs and smiles, patting his heart. “Ahh, anyway.  It makes me happy, knowing that I’m the only one you’ve fucked too.”

If Kyungsoo was being honest with himself, a tiny part of him now basks in the glory of Jongin’s admission.

“When was the last time we did this? Walk in a mall together?”

“That day before graduation,” Kyungsoo replies a bit too swiftly for his liking. He’s not in a quiz show, he scolds himself.

Jongin beams at him. “We were buying clothes since we didn’t have anything fit for a formal occasion, right?”

He remembers battling the proper tag price with a middle-aged saleslady in the department store, with Jongin playing aimlessly with the discounted sweaters in the clearance bin. “If we both attended prom we could have,” Kyungsoo mumbles, smiling softly.

“It wasn’t our thing, anyway. I heard our Doritos night was better than theirs.”

“You ate my share and slept halfway through the movie!”

Jongin ruffles his hair, grinning. “I already apologized and paid you with sour cream Ruffles! And I watched Star Wars like a billion times already.”

“You’re shameless.”

“But I’m your favorite person,” Jongin settles.

Kyungsoo sighs, thinking it’s too much of an effort to correct him.

-

There's a soft tinkling of Cheerios hitting the bowl along with the whistle of the kettle on the stove. The morning is idle at its best, and Kyungsoo stifles a yawn as he watches Jongin glide to the dining table, with  _his_  blankets wrapped around his bare body. Kyungsoo unknowingly reddens at this, and he deliberately stirs the mixture in his bowl noisily to divert his attention.  
  
Jongin grabs a bowl for himself and begins munching down on his cereal. Nobody says a word until Jongin finishes his breakfast. He wipes the milk dribbling from his chin with the back of his hand. "Are we having a fight?" he asks, his voice weak.  
  
Kyungsoo remains silent in his seat, unmoving. It's the exact same words Jongin would say when Kyungsoo refused to talk to him. It reminds him of the last time they fought, where his ex looked so frightened and distraught over making him mad.  
  
" _Are we having a fight?" Jongin said that day, taking refuge in his Ethics book. He looked at Kyungsoo with sad eyes, as if he's searching for something._  
  
 _Kyungsoo averted his gaze. Why would he ask that question again when it's perfectly clear that he's angry with him? Jongin never had a clear idea of boundaries, but sending Kyungsoo's high school transcript and SAT results to Korea University without telling him was a whole other level, and Kyungsoo would have been clueless about it the whole time if it weren't for the acceptance letter that came in that morning._  
  
It's the university he'd been pining for since grade school, but he's never been comfortable of the idea of leaving the small town for good. He couldn't bear leaving everything behind; he's sentimental like that.  
  
But in retrospect, he's more hurt than angry at Jongin for doing something like that. It bothered him that he was making him chase his dreams, that he's not even frazzled at the fact that Kyungsoo might be too busy to even see him again. To Kyungsoo, it meant that Jongin was sending him far, far away. Like it’s okay.  Like all those years with him meant nothing.

 _It's the purely unselfish act that made Kyungsoo crumble, because that was the time that he wanted Jongin to be selfish the most. They're at the crossroads, and he wanted Jongin to pick the road where they'd be together, until the end._  
  
 _"I'll never forgive you," Kyungsoo said finally without looking up from his own textbook. Small drops coming from salty tears spilled all over the yellowing pages.  
  
For a moment, all had been silent, and then there's a handkerchief shyly pushed towards him. "But you still love me, right?" Jongin asked hopefully.  
  
And at that, Kyungsoo broke down._  
  
"You always give me the silent treatment when you're mad," Jongin says suddenly, jarring him from his thoughts.  
  
Kyungsoo's throat must have lost all sense of function, so he settles with shaking his head instead. He wonders how long it'd take for the water to heat up.  
  
Jongin seems okay with his answer, and continues watching him under heavily-lidded eyes.  
  
The kettle trembles violently on the stove; the hot, stream of gas gush from its mouth with an ear-splitting shriek. Kyungsoo stands up to turn off the fire and pours a considerable amount in two mugs of cocoa. He hands Jongin the other.  
  
He doesn't look at him. "Do you want me to leave?"  
  
 _"No,"_  Kyungsoo croaks in his head, but he nods, saying, "Sorry. I have to get ready for work."  
  
Jongin accepts this, and stands up to pick up all of his clothes discarded hastily from their little affair last night. Kyungsoo watches this all from the side, finishing up his drink, ignoring the tingly feeling in his spine. He feels somewhat sad that they are suddenly reduced to this, and that no matter what, he'll never have the right to ask Jongin to stay.  
  
("Because they're not meant for each other," a voice says in his head.)  
  
"You're still not wearing socks?" Kyungsoo questions as Jongin inserts his feet on a pair of running shoes. "It's getting cold you know."  
  
Jongin grins a little. "It was much colder in America," he tells him, eyeing him knowingly.  
  
He doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't respond. Kyungsoo then digs from his drawers and throws Jongin a pair of grey woolen socks.  
  
Jongin doesn't thank him, but when he slips it on, Kyungsoo ends up feeling satisfied, anyway.  
  


-

“I think the baby’s coming.”

“Goddamn it, Sehun.” Kyungsoo bangs his fist on the table, both in surprise and in exasperation. Even though they share the same office, Kyungsoo would like it better if Sehun would knock first before spouting crude sentences. “Stop giving me a heart attack. Jesus.”

“It’s been eight months,” Sehun states, undeterred. He takes a small sip from his coffee cup.

Kyungsoo knows exactly what he’s talking about. “Eight months and three days,” he offhandedly supplies. He turns back to smoothing out the letter to the orthopedic department that is already two weeks due.

“How long are you going to keep this up? Until, by some miracle, one of you ends up with another human infesting your non-existent uterus?”

“It’s casual sex,” Kyungsoo insists. “Nothing to worry about.”

Sehun inclines his chin towards the colorful basket of oranges and tulips arranged in a meticulous manner with a satin blue ribbon perched on top. “Casual sex. Right. And weekly deliveries dovetail it really nicely.”

“We can’t date.”

“Was that agreed upon?”

“Yes!’

“When? Like now, or eight years ago?”

Kyungsoo rubs his temples with his fingers. Sehun seems to be missing the whole point. “We have no affections for each other anymore. We’re just seeing each other for sex. It’s the twenty-first century. It happens, alright?”

“You could’ve fooled me,” Sehun remarks, face remarkably impassive. “If only you guys didn’t see each other so often – I know you. It’s not sex that you’re after. Neither is Jongin. It’s too fucking obvious that he’s courting you that you should get hit by a club or something for letting this go on way too long.”

Kyungsoo tries to ignore the fleeting flashes of Jongin holding his hand way during one walk at a park, of Jongin taking him to all the places they frequent when they were kids, of Jongin constantly retelling stories of the times they were dating after every night of promiscuity, of Jongin’s voice lulling him to sleep, of Jongin’s warm smile before ensnaring his lips –

“It was over a long time ago,” Kyungsoo mutters mostly to himself. “We can’t go back.”  

Sehun agrees, nodding. “Yeah, you can’t. But I wasn’t telling you guys to go back.”

 Kyungsoo looks at him.

The statuesque brunette shrugs. “There’s no reset button in life, apparently. But you know… you’re not letting yourself go anywhere. Why don’t you hit ‘play’ instead of ‘pause’, Kyungsoo, seriously? Because Kim Jongin’s not after your ass hole, asshole. He wants you.”

Sehun then peruses his wallet from his slacks, and pulls out two reservation tickets to a European restaurant not so far from the hospital. He places it on the table and stamps it down with Kyungsoo’s empty coffee tumbler.

He leaves the room wordlessly after taking a ripe orange from the basket.

-

Kyungsoo stands in front of the queue area, looking strikingly out of place with his work clothes and grubby shoes. He feels the tension mount on his shoulders. He taps his shoes on the pavement and pulls his fingers into fists, cracking his knuckles in the process.

Jongin arrives after half an hour, his checkered button down and loose jeans also inappropriate for the five star restaurant, and they both stand out in the small crowd of men and women clad in suits and backless dresses filing to get inside.

Jongin whistles, eyeing the red clay roof tiles. “I didn’t know you’d be taking me to an Italian restaurant. I would’ve made an effort in dressing myself better.” He then glances at Kyungsoo’s wrinkled long-sleeved shirt and chuckles. “I guess you had no idea either.”

Kyungsoo clamps his mouth shut, looking straight at the busy streets. He takes the two reservation slips from his front pocket.

“Shall we go inside?” Jongin asks.

 Kyungsoo avoids meeting his eyes, studying the grit on his shoes, as the younger measures the silence between them. The pedestrians are starting to stare, and Jongin flashes him a questioning look.

Much to his surprise, Kyungsoo tears the papers into two.

“Um, Kyungsoo –“

He finally looks at Jongin, his eyes glinting with unknown emotion. “Do you love me?” he whispers.

Jongin’s eyes widen in shock. His mouth is open, but no words slip out.

Kyungsoo wasn’t prepared for this, Jongin’s utter look of confusion, and he stalks away as he feels something starting to sting his eyes. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. He shouldn’t have let Sehun’s words sway him.

“Kyungsoo! Hey, Kyungsoo!”

He grabs Kyungsoo by the forearm, stopping him, before cupping his face in his hands.

And here they are again, Kyungsoo thinks. Back to the where they left off in the ice cream parlor, where the struggle inside Kyungsoo dissolves, where Jongin breaks the battle armor around his heart and claims it for his own.

Jongin kisses him, languid and beguiling. It’s unlike their previous kisses, the ones they shared ever since Jongin came home, and the way Jongin’s breath fogs his mouth and steals his own reminds him of their first kiss, the one that made Kyungsoo fall deeper and harder. He remembers falling so fast for Jongin, and the memory of his first and only love holding him like this hits him in the gut with crushing force – the tears flow freely now, and Jongin wipes them away with the back of his hand.

He places his hand on Kyungsoo’s quivering shoulders, steadying them. “You don’t know how frustrated I am with you,” Jongin tells him. His eyes are misty. “It’s one thing chasing after someone. It’s another thing running around all by yourself.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, sniffling loudly. “You told me you didn’t love me anymore. You said you were sick and tired of me,” he cries quietly. “What was I supposed to think?”

Jongin envelops him in a hug, resting his chin on top of Kyungsoo’s head, and the latter can feel something wet dripping on his hair. “And you believed every single word of it,” Jongin sighs, disappointment and sadness leaking through his voice. “I’ve always thought you can see through me when I’m lying, but when you didn’t fight for me – when you didn’t fight for us – I was  _devastated_ , Kyungsoo. At that moment I thought you were the one who’d fallen out of love, and it made me so angry that all my reservations in leaving for Boston faded.”

 _How in the world could you think such things?_ Kyungsoo wants to yell, but what he chokes out instead is, “You’re so stupid.” And Kyungsoo knows he is too.

“I know,” Jongin replies. “I’m sorry.”

“You said you didn’t love me,” Kyungsoo repeats, but it’s feebler this time.  _You’re losing again_ , the better part of him says.

But when Jongin places Kyungsoo’s hand on his pounding heart, he feels like he’d won.

“Telling you that I didn’t love you is the most despicable thing I’ve ever done. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for forcing myself on you ever since I came back, but I just can’t help myself. I want you. I’ll want you forever,” Jongin whispers “I want to erase the doubt that I created eight years ago, and all I want to do is love you and make you happy.”

 Jongin kisses him again, his face wet from crying. They are so close to each other that he can smell his aftershave, strong and minty, and the memories rush back again, making his heart crack open and the blood spill all over his feet. Kyungsoo had never known it could be possible to miss someone so much who’s only an inch away.

“I love you,” Jongin says when they break apart. “I’ve always loved you. You don’t know how much I’ve restrained myself from saying it to you all this time.”

Kyungsoo hiccups and sniffles, leaning his head on Jongin’s shoulder. They sway a little underneath the street lights of the alleyway. “I thought you were only seeing me for sex,” he admits.

Jongin croaks out a sad laugh, hugging him tighter, and Kyungsoo realizes that Kim Jongin is the cruelest person he’s ever met. “You’re a great lay, Kyungsoo, but lust isn’t the only emotion I feel for you.” He smiles a little. “Eight months of waiting is nothing next to leaving you for eight years, I know, but I feel like I can breathe again. You absolutely have no idea how hard it was trying to make you see how serious I am. It’s like high school all over again.”

His eyes are still clouded with unshed tears, and Kyungsoo reaches a hand out to smooth the creases away. “I kept on pestering you to remember all the moments we had just in case you’ve forgotten about it, because I haven’t. But I guess you didn’t either.”

And Jongin takes out an old photograph from his pocket, shoving it onto Kyungsoo’s hand. He stares at it in shock.

“I found it inside one of your drawers that first night we met again,” Jongin tells him. “You said you wouldn’t mind me poking around.”

It’s a little creased and the ends are slightly torn, but the picture is otherwise in good shape. There’s eighteen-year-old Kyungsoo flashing his signature peace sign near his eyebrow, and Jongin pressed against him, drinking a milkshake and grinning widely.

“I know you’ll never forgive me,” Jongin says quietly. He locks his gaze on the object on Kyungsoo’s hand. “I don’t even want you to. I was an ass. But can I ask you something?”

Kyungsoo tears his bewildered eyes from the photograph he had hidden in his sock closet for eight years and looks up. He already knows the question he’s going to ask.

The torn pieces of paper fly up in the air as the night wind carries them, and slowly they meld together again. Somewhere down the street, the stoplight turns green.

-

"You don't want to go?"  
  
Jongin shakes his head minutely. "Let's just stay in. It's a Saturday, anyway. And I've never liked attending high school reunions."  
  
"Then why did you go last time?" Kyungsoo inquires.   
  
"That's easy. It's because you were going."  
  
"How did you know I'd even go there?"  
  
"Baekhyun told me," Jongin replies breezily. He laughs when Kyungsoo throws him a look from the Sunday papers. "Baekhyun never changed his number since high school, remember? He's a shit like that."  
  
Kyungsoo folds the business section neatly, his expression turning thoughtful. "How long has it been?"  
  
"Me and Baekhyun?"

"No, the reun – huh?"

"Oh, I thought you were asking how long I've been keeping in touch with him," Jongin tells him, glib. "It's been ten years since the last reunion, if I remember correctly. They'll probably call us again when we're forty-seven and balding –“  
  
"So how long have you  _two_  been chummy with each other behind my back?" Kyungsoo presses.  
  
"Don't be jealous," he chuckles. "He'd always been mooning over Chanyeol since junior year. We'd seen it coming too."  
  
"You could've phoned me," Kyungsoo says unhappily.  
  
"You were never a phone person."  
  
"Still, though."  
  
Jongin gets up from his seat and kisses him on the forehead. He smiles at him. "It all worked out in the end, right?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
Jongin pecks him again, this time on Kyungsoo's cheek. "You're adorable when you're like this. So can we  _please_  stay in? I really want you for myself tonight, and I'm not letting anyone snagging you away for a dance, or even for a glass of Irish scotch."  
  
Kyungsoo exhales at his touch, his posture relaxing. "Okay," he decides.  
  
"Movie night?"

"Let’s. And I'll pick. I don't want to watch another embarrassing rip-off of  _The 40-Year-Old Virgin_  again."  
  
"Sure, go ahead." And Jongin leans forward and whispers on his ear, his voice dangerously low. “But I'll be choosing what we're going to do after that. Got that?"  
  
Kyungsoo grins.  
  


-

 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’m not actually fond of this, but much, much thanks to the badest, bestest beta-reader in the world (*whispers* hearteulips) for making this fic better in every way possible.
> 
> P.S. – To people who’ve been asking, I will update Eureurong.net in a few days. I’ve already drafted chapter six and supposed to post it today, but sudden burst of inspirations always plague me in the last minute.


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